IKKIS : 21 Gun Salute

 

#Ikkis : There could not have been a better swansong for Dharmendra. And in times of senseless, manufactured jingoism, there could not have been a more necessary film than Ikkis—a film that speaks of soldiering with dignity and courage. In an age where bigotry and hatred are routinely peddled as patriotism—in television studios, by politicians, by those who would crawl under the bed at the mere sound of a fighter jet, and even by some retired armed forces officers fishing for cushy post-retirement favors—Ikkis reminds us of the true cost of war. It tells us, quietly but firmly, that war must be fought only when it is absolutely necessary, never when it is politically convenient.

Ikkis is deeply moving, humane, and courageous—much like its protagonist, Second Lieutenant Arun Khetrapal (PVC, posthumous). It commemorates the Battle of Basantar, honors the supreme sacrifice of the Indian Army, and upholds the primacy of duty. It celebrates the soldiering rooted in courage, restraint and supreme sacrifice for the nation when necessary. Yet, it also dares to show something rarer, the grief of a father, and the dignity with which a soldier acknowledges even his enemy.

For that alone, it deserves a 21-gun salute.

As tensions between India and Pakistan escalated on the intervening nights of 8th and 9th May, and bloodthirsty TV anchors reduced the situation to a slam-bang cricket match, I found myself discussing the real cost of war. I vividly remember a colleague—someone who has never seen conflict up close, never even been part of a street fight—lecturing from the comfort of an air-conditioned room about how we should “go all out,” how victory was pre-decided.

When I asked about the repercussions- human and economic, I was told not to be “negative.” That reflexive dismissal is precisely the problem.

That, perhaps, is why films like Ikkis matter. They puncture the noise. They restore perspective. And they remind us that courage is not about chest-thumping certainty, that wars are not fought by hashtags or in studio, but by young men who bleed, families who grieve and nations who live with consequence long after the war is over.

The film’s power lies in its refusal to sensationalise. The direction is assured and restrained, allowing silences to do the heavy lifting instead of loud banging background scores. Battle sequences are shot with realism rather than bravado; they convey confusion, fear, and chaos. The camera lingers not on victory poses, but on faces—young, determined, and acutely aware of what is at stake.

 Dharmendra had reserved his finest probably for this final act of his. It is a performance marked by dignity, grief, and quiet authority. Agastya makes a remarkably assured big screen debut as the young, brave, vulnerable yet confident Second Lt Khetrapal. Jaideep Ahlawat brings a rare moral gravity to the film. His character is measured, conflicted and credible. There is authenticity to his presence – authenticity of a man shaped by discipline and duty rather than rhetoric. The supporting cast complements this tone, never slipping into caricature or sermon, allowing the film’s moral weight to emerge organically rather than through dialogue-heavy exposition.

Ikkis’s strength lies in its conscience and for that director Sriram Raghavan deserves a standing ovation.